


Loving you is a losing game

by HedgehogWrites



Series: Drarry Songfics [2]
Category: Eurovision Song Contest RPF, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (implied) - Freeform, Infidelity, M/M, Sad Ending, Songfic, arcade by Duncan Laurence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:49:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22441354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HedgehogWrites/pseuds/HedgehogWrites
Summary: Harry and Draco visit the Eurovision song contest. It will be their last outing as a couple.A broken heart is all that's leftI'm still fixing all the cracksLost a couple of pieces whenI carried it, carried it, carried it homeMy phone untangles itself from my grip, and in slow motion it’s making its way to the ground. I don’t give a fuck.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Drarry Songfics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1614826
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	Loving you is a losing game

**Author's Note:**

> Bear with me that the Eurovision Song Contest of 2019 is happening just after the war, okay? I know the dates don’t make sense, but in this fic, Harry and Draco are 19 years old in 2019.
> 
> Mature label just to be sure, as infidelity is implied.
> 
> Also: kudos for the reader who spots all song lyrics in this fic!

This must be underwater love. The way I feel you slipping away from me. 

Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you look at her. The She-who-must-not-be-named that got us tickets. Your eyes linger just a bit too long at her cleavage. She twists her hair when you two talk. I’m no expert, but even I can read non-verbal signs if they are this obvious.

Just after the war, Harry spoke at my trials. I got off with no sentence because of that. We met afterwards, and the tension between us resulted in a quick snog and suck off session in the loo. Both of us were broken by the war, the need for physical contact to just feel something, anything was overwhelming. So we continued. But recently I can tell his heart isn’t with me anymore. 

The Redhaired Bitch is a freelance tour manager. She manages big events, this time for Michael Rice. She got us the tickets to the finals of the Eurovision Song Contest. 

Harry showed me the show last year, telling me that if I was queer, I should make myself acquainted with Muggle queer custom too. I enjoyed it immensely. I tweeted quite some nasty remarks about the clothing, singing and stage designs like a Muggle pro. To my surprise, my twitter exploded and people adored my snarky comments. Perhaps they aren’t as bad as I once made them.

When Harry told me she got us tickets, I was over the moon. Stupid me. Of course he’d rather fuck Her Who Must Not Be Named. Because why would Harry or anyone want to spend their days with an ex-Death Eater? Who also happens to be male? And thus can never physically give you the family you want? I should’ve known good things can never last for a Malfoy.

Well, enough reminiscing. The here and now needs my attention, as Thé Bitch is here, bringing Harry a drink. She is pushing her boobs up while delivering it, enlarging her cleavage and making Harry look flustered. And not the ‘I’m-gay-so-I-don’t-know-what-to-do-with-a-pair-of-boobs-oh-my-God-this-is-awkward’ kind of flustered. No, it’s a ‘you-look-fucking-hot-and-if-my-boyfriend-wasn’t-here-I’d-shag-you-right-now’ blush.

‘You don’t mind, do you?’ Harry is talking to me. I think I zoned out a bit, because I’ve got no clue what he’s talking about. So I nod. Mistake! Harry’s smiles broadly, before thinking it through. He frowns.

‘I’m sorry, Dray, that Gin can only take one person backstage. Would you rather go?’ He looks like a crestfallen puppy with emerald Bambi eyes. How could I say no? I swallow and nod.

‘Have fun!’ I manage to squeeze out.

‘Thanks, Dray! You’re the best! I’ll be right back!’ His whole face lights up as he takes the Weaslette’s arm and walks away. I have to bite my lip to stop from crying as I watch him lean into her, whispering something in her ear, while she swats at his arm. Both are laughing loudly.

Sighing I revert my eyes back on stage. ‘The Netherlands!’ Well, here goes nothing. They haven’t won since 1979 or something, so there will be no competition from them. The bookies are sure Arcade will win, but the bookies have been mistaken the last few years. I flip out my phone to tweet some nasty comments about this contestor, who obviously will never win the contest.

I see a man enter the stage. He takes his place behind a piano. He looks good. Friendly. And fit. The music starts, and I gasp. A chorus of angels appear to be singing, but I can only see the one man. The audience is cheering and clapping. And then he starts singing.

A broken heart is all that's left  
I'm still fixing all the cracks  
Lost a couple of pieces when  
I carried it, carried it, carried it home

My phone untangles itself from my grip, and in slow motion it’s making its way to the ground. I don’t give a fuck. I... have felt my heart break so many times, during the war, after the war and with Harry, that I know I lost some pieces. Making me less flexible, less kind. I swallow. Will I ever get it back? The little Draco that was afraid of hurting a fly? Who caught spiders and even wasps with a cup and paper and put them safely outside?

I'm afraid of all I am  
My mind feels like a foreign land  
Silence ringing inside my head  
Please, carry me, carry me, carry me home

The world feels like it’s falling down. Nothing matters anymore, but this man and me. My ears mute all the sounds around me, except for the song. He is killing me softly with his words. It must be magical somehow. He must sense my wish Harry would carry me home.

I spent all of the love I've saved  
We were always a losing game  
Small-town boy in a big arcade  
I got addicted to a losing game

The first tear slides down my cheek, unnoticed. It leaves a trail as it slithers further down and shatters on my collar. I think of all the love I saved for Harry. All the kindness I have in me, just for him. I knew from the start it would never work out. Yet I grew addicted to him. To his kisses, his beautiful, kind heart, his selflessness.

Ooh, ooh  
All I know, all I know  
Loving you is a losing game  
How many pennies in the slot  
Giving us up, didn't take a lot  
I saw the end before it begun  
Still I carried, I carried, I carried on

I’m crying full speed now. Tears are splattering down my collar, soaking my shirt. I don’t care if anyone sees me. This song, it touches my soul.

Ooh, ooh  
All I know, all I know  
Loving you is a losing game  
I don't need your games, game over  
Get me off this roller-coaster

Time to step off the rollercoaster. I know what to do. I have to end this. Harry will never love me as much as he will love her. I grab my phone and wipe away my tears. I see a good looking boy standing next to me, watching me. I walk over and snog him. My phone snaps a quick a photo.

Ooh, ooh  
All I know, all I know  
Loving you is a losing game

Leaving the boy perplexed, I press send as I make my way out of the building. I don’t react as Harry texts me. I keep walking, to the airport. Home. 

Ooh, ooh  
All I know, all I know  
Loving you is a losing game

The Prophet tells me Harry is happy with her. I’m glad. I wish nothing but the best for you. Every time I hear Duncan Laurence on the wireless, I think of him. Of all we could’ve had. I cry every single time. When I meet him on all the sodding social events we go to, I nod politely. I see in his eyes he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t need to. He’s never loved someone in a losing game. He’s happy now, and that’s all that counts.


End file.
